The Headless Horseman in Denial
by piratingelvenpyro
Summary: Well you see...the Headless Horseman isn't really headless. He just thinks he is. The unexplicable misadventures of said Horseman are all awaiting you inside...French Canadian Accordian players, decapitation, malicious fedoras and more!
1. The fate of The Horseman

Hi yalls, this is my very first fanfiction EVER! i was so excited. I hope it turns out semi good. Please review, but be kind.

Disclaimer: I am not in ownership of any of the characters in Sleepy Hollow...Though i only use the headless horseman.The Headless Horseman in Denial  
Chapter NUMBER ONE! It is entitled: The Fate of the Horseman

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The Horseman really does have a head. It just so happens that he decided he doesn't...but he does. So he got his dear makeup artist to write in blue eyeliner on his forehead: I DON'T HAVE A HEAD. His plan worked perfectly. Ok it had a few flaws. FINE! It didn't work at all. People on the set of Tim Burton's; Sleepy Hollow, kept reminding the horseman that he did have a head. But the horseman just pointed to the writing on his forehead in frustration. "Bah! Showbiz people. What do they know?" He muttered to himself.  
Finally came the day of truth. The premiere of Sleepy Hollow. The horseman was pleased to see that he appeared on screen...HEADLESS! Little did he know that the blue eyeliner upon his forehead had been used as a blue screen and was cut from the movie. The people of the theatre sighed as the horseman ran up and down the theatre in slow-motion to the music of Chariots of fire. How rude.

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Years later, the horseman was weary and his spirits were low. For everyone had been nagging at him about his stupidity. "It's almost as if you didn't have a head!" his math teacher would say. He took this as an insult. "Don't discriminate against headless corpses!" HE would cry in desperation.  
It took one little girl to finally send the headless horseman over the edge and into the fire.  
One day the horseman took the weight off his feet upon a park bench. Soon he was joined by a girl the age of seven. She smiled her cutsie smile, "Scuse' me sir Horseman" the girl said innocently. "Why does the writing upon your forehead indicate that you are a headless being when you are clearly among the mortal species? Therefore meaning...you _do_ have a head?"  
The horseman stood up, unsheathed his sword and screamed: "I will prove to the world that I am HEADLESS!" and with that, he chopped off his own head. (That he said wasn't there).  
"I WIN!" Said his head from the park bench where it lay.  
The little girl shook her head at this peculiar series of events and walked off. 


	2. The interview

Hello all, this chapter is just to introduce the character: Ms. Hastings. she is your friends

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Chapter two:  
  
The Interview with the now truly Headless Horseman:  
  
Now Before the Horseman went to the interview, he lost his head. No pun intended. He really did. He left it sitting on the park bench. Maybe someone took it as a souvenir. But you see, this wasn't good seeing as though there is no way to speak through your neck. The poor interviewer is in for a very boring half an hour long interview.  
  
Let us call the interviewer...Ms. Hastings. Yes how about that.  
  
Ms. Hastings: Hello Mr. Horseman, we have you here to discuss your experience filming: Sleepy Hollow. Isn't that exciting  
  
Horseman:  
  
Ms. Hastings: Yes it must have been amazing. So how did you prepare for your role as the horseman?  
  
Horseman:  
  
Ms. Hastings: Fascinating really! Now what was it like working with one of the most well known directors of our time?  
  
Horseman:  
  
Ms. Hastings: I would think you would have more to say about that. But maybe you felt more eager to be working with Johnny Depp...  
  
Horseman:  
  
Ms. Hastings: (Getting annoyed) You see if I had the chance to work with him, you wouldn't be able to shut me up! But clearly you like to keep your comments to yourself. Would you like to comment on that comment?  
  
Horseman:   
  
Ms. Hastings: How interesting! So, it must be hard to be headless eh?  
  
Horseman:   
  
Ms. Hastings: (very annoyed) Did anyone ever tease you about being headless?  
  
Horseman:  
  
Ms. Hastings: (Angered) GEEZ! This is creepy and morbid! I think I realize something now...your impolite!  
  
Horseman:   
  
Ms. Hastings: (close to tears) curse your headless form! CURSE IT CURSE IT CURSE IT!  
  
Horseman: (who is confused by this very annoying lady)   
  
Ms. Hastings proceeded to rip her hair out and roll out the door. 


	3. Life as a Headless Horseman

Ah hello, i think i will up the rating for violence in the next few chapters. Not so much this one though. The horseman is soon to go through a midlife crisis! But if you like it you must review or i will not bother. on that happy note....

Same discalaimer:

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**Chapter three: Life as a Headless Horseman:  
**

After the interview, the Horseman was actually feeling rather good about himself. He had always wanted to exasperate people to the point where they pulled their hair out. He had succeeded. The horseman decided to enjoy the life he had always wanted, a headless one...  
  
In between trying out for movie after movie, he went on dates, aggravating the poor ladies so, that one even chopped her own head off with the bread knife at the dinner table. Oh my. The horseman was thoroughly delighted. But her will was not as strong as the Horseman, she couldn't actually breathe without a head, so she kind of died.  
  
Finally Tim Burton, being the kind and generous person he was, decided to give the Horseman another chance at acting, only if he could learn to get along with the other actors and crewmembers. The Horseman agreed to the terms, for he was ready to get back into the spotlight.  
  
But what Tim didn't tell him was that he only had a small role...so small that all he did was show up in the background, comprehensively confusing moviegoers. I mean wouldn't you be a bit shocked if the characters, Laura and Micheal were professing their undying love...and then you see a headless guy in the background buying a premium ice-cream cookie sandwich from the ice-cream man for $1.20? I would be.  
  
The horseman was enraged when he went to the premiere and found that his only line in the movie (paper or plastic?) had been cut. He was so mad that he began to froth and shake like a blender...he went on a killing spree in the theatre. People were traumatized; the horseman had changed so much since his last premiere. That time he had been dancing...this time he was killing. Before long, there were many head and limbs scattered about the theatre. A few people remained, but were so hypnotized by the film that they didn't care they were sitting next to a very mangled corpse. Tim Burton, who was used to this kind of violence, totally ignored the whole scene. Well, I shouldn't say that...he decided to make a movie out of it! You see that's what we filmmakers do...we take life experiences, dramatize them....then film them! HUZZAH! A movie is born.  
  
So Burton and Horseman contemplated and agonized over screenplays and titles for this new movie (that the horseman would star in...everyone agreed to that easily). After much forethought they decided on the simple title: "The modern day headless horseman of Needanap Density".  
  
The horseman's generosity grew a great deal while working with Tim Burton; he decided to seek out Ms. Hastings and give her a cameo appearance in the film as his girlfriend.  
When she arrived on the set, some of her hair had grown back, and her face had gone back to its original color. "Good," said the horseman, "the lady of my movie must be pretty." Ms. Hasting's soon forgave the Horseman for the trauma he had made her endure, and they were quickly on a first name basis with each other.  
"So Rachel," said the Horseman, "you need to be picking apples gracefully in that far corner..." he ordered her, (he was the assistant director as well as star, assistant producer, costume designer, screenplay writer...and the list goes ever on).  
"Ok Headless, kinda like this?" Said Rachel (Ms. Hastings) and she posed in her apple picking position on sound stage 101.  
"Perfecto! Lets get ready for action!" Yelled the horseman.  
"Ahem..."Tim Burton said huffily, "I believe that is MY line! Okay people let's get ready for action, FIVE FOUR THREE TWO ONE....." and the camera was rolling.  
  
6 months later after a grueling 12 hour a day 6 days a week shoot, the 6 hour movie, loosely (ahem...very tightly) based on the Horseman's life was premiered. People flocked from Hong Kong to Jerusalem to see it. Twas' quite a hit.  
The Horseman had started a trend, now everyone wanted to be happy and headless like him. Now, in Needanap Density (where the horseman still dwells) people are walking around headless. But tis' naught but an ordinary town! The residents wave a friendly ello' to each other as they pass on the streets and they go to the movies, thought they have a hard time paying attention.  
Once, rumor has it that a strange tall gangly fellow by the name of Ichabod came into Needanap one day...he ran home and reported to his wife; (that would be me) "No, you must believe me! It was a horseman, a dead one...headless!" ::faints::  
Mmmmm I will have to use my memory wiper on him.


	4. THE CHAPTER OF DOOM!

yes after a WHOLE WEEK! yes i know treacherous. I have updated one of my stories. I got kinda lazy. meehee. Ah yes the next chapter is rather exciting if i do say so myself. Rachel is quite a star in it (Ms. HAStings) the real Rachel feels loved and appreciated. SHE WOULD ALSO LOVE AND APPRECIATE IF YOU READ AND REVIEWED! as would i. so here goes...

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**CHAPTER uhhh....4! THE CHAPTER OF DOOM:**  
  
So...what do you do when you are married...are headless... live in a perfect town where everyone loves you and follows your lead? I'll tell you what: Nothing. Sadly the Horseman had settled down with Ms. Hastings and lived in Needanap Density where all were in awe of his...uh awesomeness.  
  
Headless horse peoples are not meant to settle down and be happy ugghhh happiness equals ickyness. So, the horseman, being of the horseman species, finally began to break down and soon became depressed. Even Ms. Hastings (who was now Mrs. Horseman but we will keep her maiden name just for easy reading) couldn't cheer the Horseman up. "OPTIMISE!" pleaded Ms. Hastings. "BE FULL OF MERRIMENT! UHHHmmmmm.... JOYOUSLY SING!" but the Horseman just sat and thought of his younger years of violence and gore. Mmmmmm gore.  
  
But alas here he was in this less than stimulating suburban-type home. The walls were...dark blue, and they reminded him of the night sky and when he used to ride freely into the twilight looking for heads he fancied...then stealing them less than subtly from their owners! The kitchen of his was filled with yogurt and olives...girly food. The horsies in the stable all favored Ms. Hastings (who was also a rider) for some reason they were fond towards her gentle grace, more than the Horseman's harsh riding and speech. But he couldn't believe that his most beloved Frisian horse (yes the very one he rode in the movie Sleepy Hollow) had turned against him. He just wasn't into the whole creepy scaring people and neighing loudly thing anymore. He just liked to canter along the countryside with Ms. Hastings. So soon the Horseman had given up riding and became quite out of shape. The months spent in this home of "happiness" (ewww happiness) were quite crappy and even the weather was mean.  
  
One day Ms. Hastings reached her wits end..."Horseman...I can't stand doing all the work in this house, if we are going to make this relationship work then you have to get off your lazy butt and do some work! Grocery shop, feed the horses, clean the house, pay the bills, Work to pay the bills...I DO IT ALL!" The horseman sat at the kitchen table staring at the 12 pickled olive cans upon the table. He felt a familiar sense of anger flood his body. It wove through him. His eyes suddenly stopped blinking. He remembered...that little girl in the park...how she had angered him. Ms. Hastings was now infuriating him; he stood up and unsheathed his sword...............  
  
As the horseman rode off into the twilight like he had done so many times before in his life, he felt the proverbial thrill of galloping. He thought about what he had done only moments before. Ms. Hastings was dead...decapitated. How delightful. Sure the Horseman had loved her very much...but he needed excitement, and he didn't like to talk things through. So he killed her off. And know was in search of more to kill, for fun of course, nothing serious.  
  
But before long, the horseman heard a faint rhythm behind him...cantering? The clamor became louder; whoever was on that horse was going full speed. The horseman reared and turned around as his horse neighed in fright. He saw a headless being upon a dark brown horse, thought you could barely tell. It was riding as a silhouette against the moon. It would have been a pretty sight if the being were not hunched down in a concentrated endeavor to race right at the horseman. Soon he realized this predicament and rode out of the way of his pursuer. The being saw this and slowed down as it reached the horseman.  
  
The confused horseman unsheathed his sword, the being spoke in an spacious voice that seemed like surround sound (heehee that's pretty cool)  
  
"Let this be the last time you ever unsheathe that sword!" Spoke the voice of the now headless Ms. Hastings. The horseman was less than shocked. He dropped his sword sarcastically (how can an action be sarcastic? oh well) ...he doubted that Ms. Hastings would ever have the nerve to hurt him. But regrettably he lurched backwards as Ms. Hastings nimbly produced a small dagger and with good aim sent it soaring into the Horseman's heart. He dramatically and climatically dropped from his horse and lay upon the grassy forest floor. Blood trickled out of his wound and Ms. Hasting's headless form gave a "hmmph" of satisfaction and rode back home.  
  
No the Horseman didn't die...I mean he was headless. He just got back up and walked home... without the horsie.(Who i named Kirkpatrick) The poor horsie had been scared off (yeah the horse actually took all of this seriously) I didn't feel like telling you that he wasn't going to die, cause' of I did It would have taken away all the drama of the scene. Yeah...

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Well ze chapter is done...unless i wrote more in my sleep and added it in without my concious being knowing. But i doubt that happened...though anything is possible right???? now review...or better yet....reread it and review 


	5. The Gods take things into their own hand...

Yes so here is a chapter that may be the last...but maybe it won't be.

Disclaimer: i own not of the Headless Horseman, or the Song i use from Hercules. ****

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Chapter 5: the gods take things into their own hands.  
Major randomness will occur frequently

There is little more to tell of the Headless Horseman's life (no pun intended) except for that of his whereabouts now. Your heart may bleed after reading this chapter...for you will be distressed in knowing that you are not worthy of meeting the inconceivable, incredulous, marvelous, maniacal, morbid dweller of the horse (otherwise known as "The headless horseman", but I have said that waaaay too much in my story...I mean it's always: 'the horseman did this and the horseman did that.). But nevertheless you shall know his location.  
  
Remember the last few chapters? No????? Then go back and read them...now have you read them? GOOD. Now we may commence. All throughout the first few chapters...the Greek Gods in...Greece (redundancy is MINE!) had been getting bored being in Greece. How can a god get bored? Why ask me? All I know is that they spent their days fiddling with yoyos and slinkys (mmmm slinkys). One day the god of travel looked a bit more closely at his map of the universe (the universe that I and a few others are the supreme rulers of) he then made a revelation:  
  
"THERE ARE OTHER COUNTRIES BESIDES GREECE!" He exclaimed and all the gods heard...how could they not? Believe me, there's a reason why they called the god of travel; "Drumkiller". Anyhoo, the gods were overjoyed and packed quickly. But they were delayed in leaving Mount Olympus because even Zeus had a hard time prying Hera away from her priceless jewelry. Of which would be much too heavy to carr all the way to...wherever they were going. As the large group of gods soared over the oceans, Hermes asked the god of travel where exactly they were heading.  
  
"Hmmmm, methinks we should go to this country right here...its big and kind of looks like your head Hermes!" He said as he pointed to America. Hermes stormed off in a huff, taking out a mirror to verify the shape of his head. The Gods came to rest in a large patch of strato-nimbulus (rain clouds) clouds. They looked down at a small town, in which the people would be their playthings.  
  
The town was most coincidentally Needanap Density, where The Horseman and his agitated wife live...lived. You see the Horseman's wife, whom you know as Ms. Hastings was quite enraged with the Horseman after his little act of immature...killingatwillness. So she took a holiday...a very long holiday...and she didn't except to return...in fact she meant not to.  
  
The Gods most inadvertently chose the Horseman as their first toy. Aries decided to leave the Horseman a note on his front door...a tempting not that he knew the Horseman couldn't resist...  
  
_Dear Horseman dude, uhh I feel like killing you...so come to that field on  
that street tonight and...I guess I will kill you...yeah  
With ALL due gratitude: Lord Aries (aren't I polite?)  
_  
When the Horseman read this he gurgled with merriment. Someone who liked death as much as him! Yeehaw!  
  
Back in the clouds, the Gods were placing bets on who would win. Aries was not amused:  
  
"Of course I Aries shall win this battle!"  
  
The gods of course knew this...but they all really hated Aries, because he like to chop off people's hair. And that's not very nice. So they all decided to help the poor doomed horseman...  
  
The headless horseman had his sword at the ready...he stood in that field on that street waiting, waiting, waiting and finally!  
  
CRASH BAM BOOM!  
  
The horseman was knocked to the ground and blood spurted from his leg...Aries was cheating! He didn't even bring a sword to fight with, he planned to send arrows showering down upon the horseman, and be done with it. So far only two had punctured the Horseman, both in his left leg. Now he couldn't get up because his left leg was stronger than his right! SO HA! But there was still hope..........  
  
Cuz then along came Zeus! He hurled his thunderbolts! He zapped! Locked that sucker in a vault! He's trapped! And on his own stopped chaos in its tracks! And that's the gospel truth!  
  
The Horseman glanced up at the sky to see Aries floating in an invisible vault against the stars. Zeus packed up his thunderbolts and came down to greet the horseman.  
  
"Thank you sir horseman, for giving us reason to kill Aries!" He said in a large booming voice.  
  
"Anytime anytime." Nodded the Horseman.  
  
"So, the other gods and I decided that if you won the battle and Aries was destroyed..." But the Horseman cut him off...  
  
"But he wasn't destroyed, he is right there!" he said pointing. Zeus snapped his fingers and Aries exploded. And I laughed very hard.  
  
"As I was saying, we decided that you would take his place!" Zeus finished happily.  
  
"Well I don't know..." Said the Horseman.  
  
"YOU WILL COME WITH US!" Roared Zeus so loud that it began to rain...so loud that my ponytail holder snapped when I wrote it. The horseman sat attentively up and saluted.  
  
So my friends, may you be flying poultry, a moose with no feet or just a plain old bagel with no cream cheese, you now know that you will never see the Horseman. He will see you though. For he sits upon a cloud drinking tea...have you ever sat upon a cloud drinking tea? Didn't think so.

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DId yall' get my Lord of the Rings thing? ABout Ms. HAstings? FINE BE THAT WAY! i never liked you anyway.BUT I WILL IF YOU REVIEW!


	6. home at lastagain

i was bored so i wrote another chapter...

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The headless horseman in denial numero 6...el six...un six...sixo...the sixth....

Sitting on a cloud drinking wine and eating grapes wasn't all it was cracked up to be. First of all...you would get pretty sick of grapes, and also, it was hard to stay still on a cloud for someone who longed for adventure...and decapitating people and holding their heads hostage for a ransom of $5.99 and a key chain from a foreign land.

So you can see that the headless horseman wasn't having a jolly ol' time up there with the Greek gods. Though he tried to keep on swallowing the grapes that Aphrodite force fed him, and though he tried to be enthusiastic when he helped Zeus sharpen his thunderbolts, he found himself missing his horsey, and his sword, and his Rachel. But most of all his horsey.

One day our protagonist (who actually is an antagonist seeing as he fits the three main categories of evil...no I will not tell you what they are!) worked up the courage to ask Zeus to go home...

"Zeus...can I go home?" The horseman asked timidly to the ruler of the Grecian Gods.

"Hmmmm," said Zeus... "I suppose you may, but only because you have been hogging all the wine lately...BUT!" He roared in a thunderous...roar, "YOU MUST PASS THE ULTIMATE TEST!" And as he said this, all the gods within a 10-foot radius shrieked and squealed...

"T-t-the ultimate t-t-test?" Asked the horseman, growing meeker by the minute.

"Yes" said Zeus, "follow me." The two glimmering gods (yes the horseman is a god...remember?) floated to the edge of a very large cloud. The horseman peeped over the end of it and gasped. For there below lay his old house. "Your test Sir Horseman, is to jump from here...(he gestured to where the horseman stood) to there...(He gestured to the ground beneath them...far far far beneath them.)"

For a moment The horseman stood upon the cloud...his feet riveted, although it is hard to rivet your feet to a cloud, I believe he managed to do so. "so...are you gonna jump?" Said Zeus in a taunting manner.

"Yes...hold on! I need to make sure I have my affairs in order, well...the coffin is in the basement...made it myself, Ms. Hastings has probably already spent all my money on new horses and bootlaces for her hair...so there is no need to write a will, I paid for horse insurance, yep I'm all set." Mumbled The Horseman.

"Good, now go! Before I have to push you!" And with that, the horseman took a daring leap...plummet...dive...to the ground below.

The rush of wind in his face made him feel for a fleeting moment that he was flying. With that, he realized with an embarrassed jolt, that he could fly! HE WAS A GOD! But it was too late, Zeus was above laughing his head off and the Horseman landing with a sickening thud in Ms. Hasting's purple petunias.

"YOU IMBOLIC IMBOSILE!" Screeched Ms. Hastings from out of nowhere. "YOU RUINED MY PETUNIAS!" She showed no sign of joy that her husband was back, well of course not! She thought she had killed him.

But the Horseman didn't care, he was so happy to be on stable land again. He hopped skipped and jumped to the stable where he spent the rest of the day, happy as a clam...pardon the pun (wait, there is no pun) and much to Ms. Hasting's dismay, he planned to live in the house again. But for one night only.

You see, he realized that he was meant for bigger things, such as creeping people out by chasing them in a foggy forest. There was no settling down for the horseman...if you will. He had to be free. And as much as he loved Ms. Hastings, she decided not to go with him into the forest to creep people out. She decided to move to Quebec and marry the accordion guy she met on her eighth grade trip there.

So if I here another tale worth telling about this here horseman I shall relate it as best I can. If not, read my other stories.


	7. Dinner with the Mifooliganes

Chapter Something or other...

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A/N: I was going to do a Headless Horseman "A Christmas Carol" but you see, I do not feel up to writing that much…maybe next weekend. Perhaps. But probably not. 

SO!

Dinner With the Mifooligans...

I have had yetanother encounter with the Horseman. He told me a tale worthy enough to be related to you here. I haven't updated in so long because my evil minions did not scry to find the Horseman so I could interrogate him about his life so I could type it here for your odd enjoyment. The reason for that is, because I let my evil minions take a holiday, you know, I mean they need a break from living behind my piano and doing my evil biddings day in and day out... but that was a mistake. They never came back. ANYWAY! The Horseman arrived at my door one foggy November day, weeping uncontrollable, and we sat down and had some tea (he likes lemon tea in my santa claus mug)…and he told me this tale:

Each blade of grass shivered as the Horseman's steely steedy steedlike steed clip clopped dramatically over the field. Crushing all the…shivering blades of grass in his way.

The Headless Horseman was back, and with no Rachel, no pretty house in the forest of France, etc, he had nothing holding him back from what he loved to do the most…

DECAPITATE! –_Disembodied laughter_-

The Horseman was stealthy sneaking and snaking his way up to a group of youth who threw a purple ball aimlessly at one another. They played at the edge of this very open field that stretched for at least half of a mile. To the east of the field was a small village, of which the horseman planned to terrorize. No my enemies (A/N: The author wishes to give her views on the subject of "friends" narrators usually tend to use the word "friends" when speaking to their audience. Ummm…. have you ever MET this person your telling the story to? They COULD be your enemies…or they could just be there. So my friends do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? Good) the town's name was not "Sleepy Hollow" nor was it "Needanap Density" the Horseman's former dwelling place. This town was so obscure no one had bothered to name it. Therefore I don't know why I didn't just say that in the first place.

But as the Horseman advanced upon the youths who had commenced kicking the ball, one boy who sported a golfers cap and pants that were cut off at the knees (wow he looked a LOT like Oliver Twist) kicked the ball straight at the Horseman. Everyone turned to see the hulking image of a headless guy on a steely steedy steedlike steed. The Horseman caught the ball on reflex.

"Excuse me sir, wouldya please be so kind to be tellin' us 'ow zactly you can catch that ball…you know, seein' as ya ain't got no head, thefor' don't got no eyes?" (A/N: That is my butchering of a semi uneducated British accent).

The Horseman was befuddled. They did not scream in terror, nay! Nor did they run in sheer shock. They just stood the six of them, four boys and two girls, all under the age of twelve…waiting for an answer from the Horseman.

"Well uh, you see…I" The Horseman stuttered, clearly at a loss for words. _Why didn't they fear him? He had the sword…yes, and they creepy haunting background music, and a ghostlike black Frisian horse with phosphorescent eyes yup, and long billowing cape. CHECK! _

"I guess eez just weird." Said one of the little girls, her golden curls bobbing under a bonnet as she shrugged. The other kids agreed, and the little boy with a semi uneducated British accent said in a polite voice:

"Please sir, may we be avin' our ball back?"

The Horseman leaped off his horse (in slow motion of course) sideways hovering for a moment in midair with his gushing black cloak swelling monstrously behind him before creating a thumping hollow sound on the ground where he landed and then tripped over his cloak. The kids barely flinched. Just cocked their heads in unison to the side. Quite bemused I'm sure they were.

Angered by his failed attempt to frighten the kids, the Horseman felt he had no other choice…"uhhh your guys can I play will you?"

The kids, being polite and oh so proper, agreed with a smile, and the Horseman tossed the purple ball to the Oliver like kid, whose name happened to be of all things, Mickey Mifooligane. A rather odd last name, I myself cannot decipher from where that might have descended. You know how if someone's surname is "Baker" is suggests that his or her ancestor may have been in fact a baker? Well…what is a Mifooligane? Oh look at me, off on what, the fifth tangent of this story?

When dusk fell, and the mosquitoes came out to claim their prey, the children and the horseman left the outskirts of the field to find their mommies and supper. But the Horseman stood sadly as the children scurried to see their mommies, and he had none. But this sadness passed quickly. His mother was alive and well and earning big bucks in Vegas. She had a heck of a poker face.

But even still, he had nowhere to go. His attempt to slaughter the children was foiled for two reasons, one of which was that the children were not afraid of him. And two, they were just so gosh darn cute oh yes they were!

By far, the nicest of the lot, Mickey, came bounding over to where the Horseman fed his steed hay that he had found upon the ground. Isn't it so convenient how in stories, the characters always find what they need immediately? I find that amusing.

"Sir, mother wishes to know if ya'd like spendin' the nigh' o'er our place. We've got a simply lovely guest room! We can take the pillow off the bed if ya'd like, ya know, seein' as yoove got…well aven't got an head." He asked in his…well you know.

The Horseman was already confused as to why no one had mentioned his headlessness. So he accepted, and tied the horse up with the other village horses. Though his noble stallion didn't quite fit in with the other horses. But they didn't care. They acted just like the townspeople did towards the Horseman. When his horse neighed most ominously at the other gray brown and white horses in the stable, the others whinnied jovially and carried on eating hay and chatting amongst themselves.

Inside the Mifooligane house, Mickey's mother Mrs. Mifooligane had prepared a brilliant smelling meal of tofu hotdogs with a side of fried eggs and pretzels. The town was purely vegetarian. This didn't appease the Horseman at all. He was as you can imagine, a carnivorous cuisine chef (don't you love my alliterations?) But he downed it all anyway in just a few bites. I really don't know how he did it without a head…and with half of his esophagus missing…but yeah.

"Well Sir horseman, you must have had a long journey, traveling long distances to obscure villages in order to terrorize and have stories created of you must take a lot out of you." Mrs. Mifooligane said, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. This bamboozled the Horseman even more. _How do they know this? Besides the fact that i advanced upon their children with a sharp sword on a freaky horse? Why don't they condemn me? Put me to death, scream, or at least take me to a anger management council. _The truth is, I don't even know why. I guess these people were just weird, deranged and very forgiving.

The Horseman said goodnight to the Mifooligane family that night, including Mickey, Mr. and Mrs. Mifooligane and their 2-year-old daughter Maddy Mifooligane, of whom

The guest room was pleasant, with the smell of the seashore lingering. Though there was no seashore in close proximity…curious…but not that curious. The room had a bed made of hay and a counter carved from a fine Oak tree. A candle was aflame in a golden holder and a snuffer lay next to it. A snuffer…FOR SNUFFING! Heeheehee I love snuffers. So the Horseman lay down upon his hay bed and took a tattered old edition of "The Hobbit" he read until he didn't read. Anymore. Picking up the snuffer (meehee SNUFF!) he SNUFFED the candle and a thin line of smoke dribbled up towards the ceiling.

He was left in pitch-black darkness in a strange room that smelled of the seashore that did not exist. Meanwhile, outside, the villagers were congregating…

TBC!!!


	8. An odd event But not relavant to the tal...

**A/N: Yes…**

So perhaps you are wondering what happened that night while the Horseman rested and the townspeople deliberated. Ah my young grasshoppers, you will know in time. I thought I would take a leap into the future just now, to reflect on what in name of Ms. Hastings pansies and midnight-blue tulips just happened. RIGHT HERE at my house.

Once the Horseman had finished his tea, and along with that, his story of the Mifooligans and beyond. I say down to type out chapter seven. Once I finished that, I stood up, and then sat back down again to type chapter eight. But 3 pages into it, I stood back up. I didn't sit back down that time…

No instead, I went down to my kitchen and made some Ramen noodles. "Horseman, care for some oriental ramen noodles?" I asked as a polite gesture.

"No food for me, my black heart grows into a sad state of despair, even though it doesn't actually grow, in fact my heart has nothing to do with my state of being. If it did, I would surely be quite dead. But anyway, my stomach has shrunk as well as my heart…figuratively." He replied.

"That a fact?" I muttered dully as I _poured the contents of the container into a small saucepan for 2-3 minutes stirring occasionally or as necessary. _

It was then, when the chaos seemed to spring up from out of no where and as it sprung, it slurped up my noodles and I grumbled. I really wanted those noodles.

The chaos ran amuck in my kitchen kicking and screaming and tearing what little paint was left upon the kitchen cabinets.

When the chaos had used up all its energy it came to rest at the Horseman's feet. Who was poetically conversing with the plaid wallpaper on…my…wall. "Oh, how I love thee, let me count the ways, the greens so rich and whites so…so white!"

Standing at about a foot and a half tall…it (and when I say _it_ I mean the chaos, which looked a little bit like a rabid leprechaun with a golf cap) began to speak.

"SIRRRRRRR….an imporrrrrtant message frrrom…" The chaos lowered its mocking menacing voice into an exaggerated whisper. "Ya know, Issma Astingsha."

"Huh?" The Horseman said, tearing his gaze away from the mystifying plaid.

"You know sirrrr, Ms. Hastings!" It said as it plucked an apple out of my fruit basket and with three swift bites, demolished it. "That blonde girrrl wish da glasses and whoosh married to that accordion guy in Quebec. That's in Canadia….or maybe it's in Canada. Wherever it is….its where the Canadians live…and Ms. Hastings."

"Ms. Hastings is dead to me!" The Horseman thundered trying to sound like a tragic hero.

"Maybe that is because you killed her?" I offered, still mourning the loss of my noodles. The saucepan sat atop the stove, vacant forever. I heard him mutter.

"Well I tried to, but people are so obsessed with If they are living or not these days. Girls are so swayed by how magazines and movies are telling them 'it's not cool to be dead' and such.

I shook my head, and reached for a bagel. But as my hand was about to touch it, it disappeared. Something then APpeared. It was the Chaos. Sniggering as it chomped down on my sesame seed bagel. Would I ever be able to have lunch today? "So, let's get this over with, wazzup with Ms. Hastings? Does she want money? The Horseman's horse? To apologize?" Though the Horseman was a murderer and downright stupid sometimes, as his editor, I felt it my job to make the same enemies as him.

"No ma'am, all Ms. Hastings wants is her Great Big Sea CD back. It appears the Horseman stole it from her collection of CDs." The chaos stated as it ate some sort of pizza I didn't even know I had in my house.

"What! You come and destroy my kitchen for THAT!" I thundered, trying to sound like a distressed unappreciated friend from a soap opera. "The Horseman has nothing but his horse! He didn't bring anything else with him." I explained.

"Actually…" the Horseman winced from the chair on which he sat upon. And he pulled out from under his cloak a silver CD player and upon opening it I could read the words "GREAT BIG SEA…THE CD THE HORSEMAN STOLE FROM MS. HASTINGS."

I sighed.

Then I sighed again.

Then I watched The Chaos reach into my cereal cabinet and empty all my cinnamon toast crunch into his miniscule mouth.

Then I sighed again.

It was over. The tale of the Horseman. If his biggest crime was stealing a CD from a journalist who happened to fall in love with him, and then get sick of him and then be attempted to be killed by him and was now married to an accordion guy down…or should I say up in Quebec, hope was gone for anymore adventure.

Hope was gone for our Horseman! 'Tis truly the end of an era. But not really cuz I only have like 24 reviews. (Did my guilt trip work?)

Stay tuned for "A very Headless Christmas Carol."


	9. Esquire

A/N: I told you I wasn't gone…but hey…high school is proving to be more stupid every year. And with stupidness comes busywork and with busywork comes no time to write humour. You can't attempt to write funny stuph (meehee) when math homework is sitting by your elbow. I didn't spell check cuz I have…ahem…math homework to do. Enjoy my children.

So you believed me when I said all hope was gone eh? EH? EHHH? Well, I'm afraid the Horseman's Christmas Carol Tale is stuck on my ignorant 1996 computer and can't be published as of now. But hope came to me in the form of a brand new and really shiny flat screen dell, and now the Horseman's stories can live on.

The tid bit of the Headless Horseman's life you are about to devour into your minds took place after the Mifooligan incident and before the incident of the previous chapter. But all chapters took place before the election of president Bush as president for a second term. Wait…the last one didn't. But oh well.

You know…you really didn't have to read the last paragraph. I am sitting chuckling at you for doing so.

Where should I start relating THIS tale to yoom dears who so faithfully cling to every word I type here upon this unfaltering crisp black keyboard?

I know…

Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. When you read you begin with A,B,C….but when the Horseman began teaching singing lessons in Massachusetts, he did not begin with do, re, mi…like his hero the nun Maria had instructed to do.

He began with slice and dice, mice…to the old tune of do re mi of course!

"Hey…sup with the mice? Huh?" Said a rude Massachusetts girl in his chorus ensemble.

"AHEM." Said the Horseman, clearing his throat, "I have a slight aversion to mice."

"If you had a _slight _aversion to mice Professor Horseman, you would not wish to slice and dice them. No, you would simply harness the power of mouse traps within your domain, therefore realizing your squeamish nature." Said a bespectacled girl standing in the front of the ensemble of twelve.

"I beg your pardon! Wait…no…I do not beg your pardon, I demand it! Squeamish? me?" The Horseman roared, nearly thwacking the spectacles off the bespectacled girl. If he had succeeded, she would have then been unspectacled. Fortunately for the bespectacled girl, it was a near miss…and thus she remained _be_spectacled.

"Why yes Professor, the mousetrap device is the perfect way to extinguish mice without having to witness the death. You _could _just kill the mice with your amazing horseman sword skills. So I suppose then, that your aversion to mice is NOT slight? But extreme?" The girl said…

The Horseman gazed blankly, his mouth quite ajar and the expression on his non-existent face was one of incomprehensible anguish.

Then it hit him.

No really it did.

The girl slapped his nonexistent mouth closed. "Ouch!" He shrieked in a long note that started out high pitched and girly, but he then realized this and shrieked down two octaves.

Then it hit him again.

Not the bespectacled girl but the memory of her.

That day

In the park

She…

Was…

That little no-it-all girl who demanded that he had no head and then he….

"Excuse me Professor Horseman." The girl interrupted again much to the dismay of her eleven chorus mates.

"WHAT!" He gasped, clutching the music stand in front of him.

" 'know-it-all' is spelled k-n-o-w dash I-t- a second dash a-l-l."

"How…how…how. Did you get into my mind?" He whispered befuddled.

"Well…first off, you were talking aloud." She stated matter-of-factly.

"So…howdya' know I spelled no-it-all wrong then? Huh little girl?"

"I guess I'm just cool like that." She declared sharply.

"Oh." The Horseman bluntly said. "What the devil is your name child? So I can write it in the book of those destined for damnation when I visit my good friend Satan later tonight."

She rolled her eyes and the girl next to her said; "Lisa. Lisa Ulridge Donohaue the second."

"Esquire!" A scrawny soprano boy in the back squeaked.

"Can girls be titled Esquire?" The Horseman puzzled.

I myself have often debated that question…coming to the conclusion that…yes they can. I may be wrong though.

After class that day the Horseman came over to my house to relate this tale to myself, and all the people I had over for book club that evening. I noticed that there were only eleven book lovers tonight. Usually there was twelve.

"Mmmmm." I muttered.

"What is this Mmmmmm you speak of?" Ms. Hastings snapped from across the table filled with goodies.

The Horseman seemed not to notice her presence. Maybe he was ignoring her.

"I 'mmmmm' because I noticed someone is missing tonight."

"Who?" Asked an oblivious girl by the name of Erin, who was sitting conveniently next to the salsa dip and Tostitos chips.

"Oh…it's Lisa!" Another girl realized.

The Horseman gawked. "Lisa…WHOM?" He inquired, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word WHOM.

"Why…Lisa Ulridge Donohaue." Ms. Hastings said as though everyone should know this fact.

"Esquire!" A scrawny soprano boy in the refrigerator squeaked.

"But she should be here shortly." The all-knowing Ms. Hastings said.

"Can girls be titled Esquire?" I asked the table.

The Horseman keeled over.


	10. Literary Achievements

**A/N: Wow, I'm good. Two chapters up in a month? I can see the tire marks on the street outside from where my pencil has been racing.**

_The Horseman's Guide to Decapitation…an Art Form._

That is the first thing I saw as I walked into Waldenbooks that day. All thoughts of purchasing _World Domination for Dummies_ fled from my mind.

Having seen me gawking in horror, an awkward looking salesperson emerged from behind the counter and said nervously;

"Hello, I uh…see that you have spotted our newest…erm…arrival. Interesting looking isn't it?" She said anxiously flipping her ponytail behind her.

"Inter…In…Interesting?" I sputtered, lunging for a copy of the paperback book. On the cover was a dramatic photograph of a shiny broad sword, and reflected in it was none other than the Horseman. "I took that picture." I whispered.

Indeed I remembered a gloomy day the year before, when the Horseman came to my house, sulking as usually. We sat on my trampoline to talk, me with a notebook and camera as always, him with his sword and grimace. The backdrop of mist was a nice setting for a picture of the Horseman and I couldn't resist a snapshot.

"Well, having read it myself I uhh…" the Salesperson by the name of Ruth (it said so on her name tag) gulped and tugged on her collar, "thought it was a very intriguing insight into the art of…er…decapitating." She squeaked the last few words.

Then I knew exactly what had played out.

The Horseman had threatened the publishing companies to publish this unintelligible, incoherent piece of…literature. Then he had threatened the bookstores to stock it. And he had shamelessly threatened poor Ruth to read his book, or else.

Wait a minute…he had also threatened me! Wasn't it he who had just told me that if I didn't get out of his face he would attempt to paint my nails just a few minutes ago.

He suggested I go to a bookstore.

Foxy fictional characters. How I loathe them all.

Did he not realize how much this was going to affect me? ME? His devoted publisher, personal paparazzi and celebrity representative? I would be getting tons of fines soon for allowing him to write such…nonsense. I mean take a look at this:

_Once the head is thoroughly not on the owner's body anymore…I would recommend not keeping it. Experience has led me to believe that it is best to get rid of any evidence as soon as possible. _

Well thank you captain obvious! I could have written that.

I stormed out of the bookshop forgetting to put the copy of his book back on the shelf.

"Erm…miss…" Ruth called after me, but didn't pursue the matter as I was very huffy, and her being the terrible salesperson she was, didn't want to bother with huffy customers.

Isn't it totally awesome how these stories went from third person to first person? I'm digging it. You diggin' it?

I searched my house for the Horseman.

I searched my neighbor's house for the Horseman.

I searched your house for the Horseman.

No luck.

I finally resolved to sit down on a bench and read the dang thing all the way through. Looking for maybe a thread of hope within his words that could save me from the impending doom of the bashing critics, angry mothers and worst of all, my mother's rage.

I sat down next to a man wearing a pretty awesome hat.

I recognized that pretty awesome hat. It sat atop the man who had costarred in the horseman's debut film as Ichobod.

"Oh hey Johnny." I said glumly. I then noticed what he had in his hands.

"Hey! I see you've got your copy too." Johnny glanced at the Horseman's book in my hands. I stared at him woefully.

"What's the frown for? I'd have thought you'd be jumping for joy. I mean, your employer is really branching out you know? Writing an entire book, wow, and without a head! Pure genius. I knew he would go on to bigger and better things than show bizz," He flipped through the pages of the book, nodding approvingly.

As always, Johnny Depp managed to enlighten me that day. Why was I so upset? I suppose it was just because I had to endure many painful lawsuits concerning the Horseman's behavior (did I mention I am also his attorney? Ya. Pretty interesting job considering all the trouble he gets himself into.)

I leaned back on the bench next to Johnny, and we both delved deep into the literary achievement of The Headless Horseman.


	11. The Book Signing

**A/N: Yeah Yeah…I know I haven't updated. Whatever. I posted a new story and am using a new innovative method of fanficcing (like the new verb?)…Writing like 3 chapters at a time and THEN posting them one by one, so as not to annoy faithful readers with neglect.**

**This one is short.

* * *

**

So now I truly am the Horseman's manager.

Here I sit, four feet away from a table that has upon it, dozens of copies of the Horseman's book. The glinting covers glint at me as if to say: "Am I glinty enough for ya? Eh?" I must shield my eyes from their shiny pomposity.

The Horseman sits haughtily behind the table, ballpoint pen in hand, arrogant smile upon face, worn cloak stuck underneath the leg of his chair.

It's astounding to observe the various people in line to have their copy of his book signed. Johnny Depp had swung by earlier to have his already-tattered-from-being-read-50-times looking book signed.

Children, no taller than my cardboard Frodo standup, wait impatiently to admire the chicken scratchy scrawl squiggled across a page of the narrative. Adults from young and hip ones wearing heels just about as high as my cardboard Frodo standup to ones having mid life crisis's it would seem also linger and chat within the queue.

An elderly lady bought a copy of the book, thinking that it was the latest in her favorite series "The Meow Doodles Mysteries". I guess the picture of the axe decapitating an unwary farmer on the cover could easily be mistaken for a cuddly kitten hiding playfully under a tea cozy. I watched as the elderly woman was hustled unwittingly into the growing line for signatures. I swear I saw Elmo in the line as well.

Next in line is a fellow whose hair, if ever measured, would be about as long as my cardboard Frodo standup. He is a 70's throwback type with an assortment of mismatched colors hanging off his skinny frame. He nods approvingly as the Horseman's pen tap dances across the title page in his book.

"Dude, I'm only halfway through but I'm lovin' the your views, the edge, that…like…awesome resentment towards humankind and all it stands for. Anarchy all the way!" He pumps his tattooed fist into the air.

The Horseman nods inquisitively and slides the book back to him.

Although he is growing sick of signing his name, the Horseman loves the attention that his book has brought him.

He looks over at me with a look that says: "OMG! Isn't this awesome? People want me to sign their books! Thanks for helping me on the way to greatness. I never coulda done it without your encouraging smile, knee slappingly hilarious chronicles of my life and support along the way.

Actually it says more of this: "Fetch me more coffee. Iced, frothy, skim, a perfect ratio of sugar to milk. Pronto."

I rolled my eyes and reluctantly stomp of to retrieve it. The Horseman's pen always stops as soon as his coffee runs out.

But I am making 15 of all profits. So I guess getting coffee is a small price to pay.


	12. Girl's Date Interuppted

A/N: I forgot how much I loved getting reviews. Then I got one the other day for my King Kong fic and it all came back to me. I simply HAD to update. The Horseman lives on. Oh…and the ring tone song is by Vengaboys…not me. DUH! Like I can write such poetic lyrics? Only in dreams my friend.

I have come to realize that never again shall I have the life I had before the Horseman. Being his publicist and managers is like having your very own child.

A very tall, burly, homicidal and headless child.

He expects me to feed him, read to him (as he has no eyes) and asks me for money when he runs out (I gave him a debit card with a $500 dollar limit. Gone. In one outing to the antique store) then rolls his eyes when I refuse.

"Sorry." I say. "I only have a part time job, and the revenues from your book sales have been mysteriously transferred to a bank account of someone with the last name "Hastings." By the way…you know anything about that?"

Back from his cross-country book promotion tour the Horseman had grown a spectacular ego.

He also wanted to start work on his sequel. Exhales in a slow deliberate manner.

So I was on a date with this guy. Pretty cute.

Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, fabulous smile, melting voice, great sense of humor.

You know…just an average guy.

Sitting across from each other at my favorite restaurant, we chatted and joked about people who only order salad at restaurants and how pointless that was. We decided we would each get the messiest thing on the menu, just to annoy the waiters.

The evening was going great.

Perfect.

Too good to be true.

My cell phone rang:

"_Boom boom boom boom, I want you in my room, we'll spend the night together from now until forever! Boom boom boo…"_

Hurriedly I clicked it off, my cheeks reddening slightly at my choice of ring tone. My date merely smirked, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. I checked to see who it was. The screen read: HORSEMAN in big black letters.

"Oh dear…" I said. The last time he called me, he had gotten his horse stuck in quick sand. BIG fiasco.

"I have to take this! Sorry!" I said to my date.

"Sure…no prob." He began to indulge in the Japanese art of paper folding using his napkin.

I rushed outside. Luckily the horseman was on speed dial. It rang…

"Horseman?"

"Oh good. You got my call…listen about my sequel or should I say sequels…I'm thinkin' a sort of Star Wars meets The Princess Diaries kinda saga…"

"Horseman…I'm busy. If there is no impending threat to society due to you…your sword…or your ego…I need to go."

I hung up.

I began to walk back into the restaurant when my cell phone blared suggestive lyrics once more. I really need to change that.

"What is it Horseman?" I said in a surly voice.

"It's just that. I feel like the audience needs to feel my struggles. Experience them. How about an autobiography? We could get someone famous to write it."

"Good idea, see you later." I zapped the phone off. No more calls this evening.

I rejoined my date. Our food had still not come, but on the table were two origami cranes.

"They're so cute!" I exclaimed.

I was naïve to think I could really enjoy the rest of my evening.

A big headless hulking figure burst through the restaurant doors. Peering around, he spotted me. I was not easy to miss due to my anger ridden wide eyes and gaping mouth that sent flares of fury in his direction.

He waltzed up to my table and bowed.

"What's going on?" He asked conversationally, completely ignoring my date.

"I'm on a date you fool." I retorted angrily motioning to the hottie across from me.

"Oh good, so you're not busy." He said and knelt down, propping his elbows on the table and untying his new bronze bracers. "How about this for the cover of the autobiography?" He held his hands up to frame his nonexistent face.

"Great except…there's nothing there." I said in a monotone. I pointed to him and made the "cuckoo" swirly motion with my finger so my date could see I was not amused.

"Exactly the point…nothing…it sums up the tone of the book. It's going to be a tragedy of course. I mean…my friendless escapades in sleepy hollow, a sucky movie contract with that Burton guy. I mean…Johnny Depp totally got more credit than me for that! Then my unrequited love for Ms. Hastings! Thrown out of MT. Olympus?! Come on. Sad stuff. Tear jerking."

"Yeah. Sad. We get it. Maybe if you hadn't tried to kill Ms. Hastings…" I mumbled.

"I don't know." My date chimed in. "I think he had his reasons for that. Trying to kill her I mean."

"Finally! Someone who understands! Who are you anyways?" The Horseman asked my date.

"I'm her date." He responded with a dazzling smile.

"Oh, so do you know each other?" The Horseman asked him.

Ignoring the Horseman's idiocracy (new word don't question) my date went on… "I feel that the emotional struggle between you two was heart wrenching and the only way out was through violence. It may not have been the best way to deal with this pain, but if it helped you feel right again then maybe it was for the best. This Hastings chick must a devil's fiend not realizing how much you felt for her."

God he was cute.

"HOW DARE YOU!" The Horseman roared. "HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT! SHE WAS A SAINT!"

With that, he tore out his sword and in a single swoosh, lopped my date's head off.

"Whoops. Anger management problems." The Horseman chuckled to himself. He looked at me… "uh…you don't mind that I erm…killed him do you?" He asked.

I sighed.

"That's the third one this month Horseman. At this rate you'll have killed off every guy in town by Christmas." I snapped, unfolding my origami crane to wipe some blood off my cheek.

"What makes you think you'll get that many dates?" The Horseman retorted cheekily.

"Oh no you didn't!" I yelled.

"Sorry about this one though…he _was_ pretty cute." He sighed apologetically.

And that my friends, is life as the Headless Horseman's manager/publicist.

**A/N: Sorry if i have lost my touch. My scary English class has changed me somewhat! Hope you likes. **


	13. The Masked Ball

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I'm working on so many writing projects that fanfics just kinda slipped away. But I was inspired so...yeah. Don't mind the way this becomes a slight crossover fic at the end. Yallz know the dealio with reviews, you give 'em, I love you forever. It's a pretty good deal if you ask me. **

I bet you've been wondering how my excruciatingly exciting career as manager/publicist for the Headless Horseman has been going as of late.

If not, well, I'm not all that surprised.

But if you were…

Oh, tis' simply droll. You can't really get the sarcasm that emanates from that sentence in print; you'd have to be sitting near me right now witnessing the very un-amused expression permeating the surface of my face to understand.

The Horseman and I got together at Christmastime to watch his movie, you remember? _Sleepy Hollow_. Duh. We reminisced, opened gifts and drank expensive wine I found in a catacomb in Italy. Well, I had to drink his wine for him as he is headless and therefore lacking an entrance into which liquid can flow.

So there I was, loopy from all the wine, and the Horseman tells me about this masked ball he has been invited to on New Year's Eve.

Apparently when you're as famous as the Horseman you get invited to grand balls like all the time. I didn't even know they still had balls. I was pretty psyched at the time 'cause you know, I thought he was asking me to go with him, like a pseudo date because his former lover was married to a French Canadian Accordion player and he had kinda caused the impromptu death of several of his recent girlfriends. Seriously, he's SO not good with girls. He'll try to impress them by showing off his newly forged Balinian sword and then accidentally chop their head off in the process. I honestly can't understand his lack of self-control.

Like this one time, I got him this wicked rad sword EXACTLY like the one Will makes for Norrington in Pirates of the Caribbean (yes, the blade was folded steel with gold filigree laid into the handle, and the tang was precisely the full width of the blade. Sweet eh?) But then he totally hacked off this chick's head with it and we had to dispose of it because it was very conspicuous. I was really pissed.

So anyhoo…

"A masked ball huh? Like with masks and stoof?" I squawked. (Remember, I was inebriated.)

"Er, yes, I mean, I, I was just wondering if…" The Horseman stuttered.

"I would go with you as a pity date? Yeah sure whatev's. I'm down widdat." I rolled off my chair and attempted to do a headstand.

"Not exactly." The Horseman said, concentrating.

I suddenly sat upright.

"Then what?" I reached for the bottle of wine, but the Horseman snatched it out of my reach.

"I was kind of hoping you would make my costume for me. I was thinking a bold red, but not a romantic red, an angry phantom of the opera-esque red, with a peacock feather worked in there somehow, and a gold belt…"

"What the fruit cake dude!" I hit him with the wine bottle opener in the shin. "Why can't I go? Me wan go! Gowns and dresses and spoooooooooooky masks!"

I was very angry despite my inability to form cohesive sentences.

"Come on!" Said the Horseman, "You're my manager. You're amazing and I appreciate all that you do. But going to events with your manager is like taking your cousin to the prom. Seriously. Do you see Harry Potter taking J.K Rowling to masked balls?" The Horseman explained. But his explanation didn't make sense then, and it still doesn't now. How did Harry Potter get mixed up in all of this? And since when does he attend masked balls?

"You're jusht a shnupid headlesh smashtard." I bellowed before I collapsed into a deep sleep on my polka dot throw rug.

But, I did make the headlesh smashtard's costume. Just like he'd asked for it, except I thought the belt made him look a little chunky, so we decided on slimming black pants with gold stripes on the side instead so there would be no need for a belt. I didn't make a sword sheath to match the ensemble, and the Horseman was rather displeased. I honestly didn't think that waltzing with a sword in tow would be a healthy or wise choice, also as this was a public affair and would no doubt reflect upon me as a good manager, I had to talk him out of it.

"So who's your date going to be?" I sniped bitterly as I glued royal blue sequins to his superfluous mask.

"I was thinking about asking that girl from the coffee shop down the street."

"The one who sits in the window talking to herself?"

"No you fool. The one who works there."

"The blonde with the irritating freckle next to her left eye?"

"No."

"The one who ignores your order and just brings you what she thinks you should be drinking?"

"No, not that one."

"Not the one who is constantly smiling with the tremendous under bite?"

Silence.

"Really?" I asked, unbelieving. He had never shown any interest in her before.

"Yes, I think she would look lovely on my arm." He said with an air of pompousness.

"No, I think that your _sleeve_ will look lovely on your arm. Because I spent three friggin' hours embroidering your name onto it in gold thread." I growled at him.

"Yes, and I appreciate you for it." He said to me as though I was being ridiculously unfair.

"Well get going and ask her, because the ball is in two days." I ushered him out of the room.

When I had finally finished the Horseman's costume, my eyes were bloodshot and my hands quivering after all the intricate beading, embroidering and sewing they had been forced to do. I admit, he looked amazing in the outfit. He cleans up very nicely. And his date was gorgeous as well in her old High School prom dress and store bought mask. I chuckled as they left for the ball in the limo, and wagered how long she would survive the night. Even without a sword, I was sure the Horseman would find a way to accidentally kill her before the clock struck midnight.

Watching them leave, I felt a sudden pang of sadness. The Horseman had such a fulfilling life. A youth full of adventure, beheading and Ichabod Cranes, a career consisting of novels, films and adverts for Weight Watchers, and then a personal life including masked balls, fancy attire and cute coffee shop employees in desperate need of dental interference.

I trudged to my room and opened my closet door.

I gazed at the ball gown I had bought years ago for when I thought someone would eventually ask me to attend a masked ball with them.

That day had never come.

I put on the dress out of spite for my paltry existence, imagining the fun the Horseman would be having at that exact moment. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I hastily wiped them away.

The doorbell rang.

"He probably forgot his top hat." I rolled my eyes and descended the stairs to open the front door.

It wasn't the Horseman standing in threshold, but another unlikely fictional character.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" I gasped.

"Er, yes." He said awkwardly.

"Is it true then? About your scar?" I whispered. I couldn't resist.

"Well, yeah. But anyways, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to attend the ball with me. You seem to be dressed and everything!" He smiled.

"What? Me? A ball? I couldn't."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Good question." I frowned. "But why me?"

"Well, I couldn't very well ask J.K Rowling to go with me now could I?" He laughed as though outraged.

"I suppose not."

"And the Horseman told me you are a very good dancer." He said, and I grinned.

"Let's go then!" He exclaimed heartily. "But the Horseman also told me to keep you away from liquor of any kind. Can't hold your alcohol eh?" He smirked and I made a mental note to punch the Horseman in the face later on.


End file.
